Little One
by ImMakingWaffles
Summary: First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the Antichrist pushing a baby carriage.


Before the blast that wiped out almost everyone and everything on the planet, I took a lot for granted. A _lot_.

For instance, the fact that everything I could ever want was at my very fingertips. Anything I wanted to do, I could do. Drive to the beach. Eat any kind of food in the world. Go out into the world and talk to an infinite amount of people. I could ride a bike. I could run. Free.

That isn't the case, in this new world of underground bunkers, gas masks, and hydroponically-grown vegetables. There are certainly some pros to this new way of living, but we all know it isn't as…exciting. Of course, my fiancée is the one who caused all of this, so I figure every cloud has a silver lining.

It probably doesn't sound like a healthy relationship; being with the antichrist and all of that. But being with Michael Langdon has been an absolute blessing. He is the most caring, gentle partner I could ever ask for. Obviously, I know how he can come across to other people. A little…intimidating.

Or a lot.

But when he opens up to somebody, and spills out his entire heart, you can see who he truly is. He's dedicated his life to serving his father and making the changes that need to be made to restore balance on this planet. He's changed history; ended the agony of the human race as we know it and plans to create the new world in his father's image.

Not lakes of fire and hellhounds, as far as I know.

I know there's a long road of recovery ahead for this world, but we have the power and the resources to make it happen exactly how we want it.

Since moving my entire life underground, about a year ago, I have had to find new things to fill my time and keep my brain working. Otherwise, it'd turn into a pile of goo as I re-watch the box set of Friends for the tenth time.

I've started exercising every day, which I never thought would happen. I've been learning to play piano, and how many different ways to cook squash. I finally read all of the Harry Potter books and can recite most of the dialogue from the movies.

And since a month ago, after being proposed to by the flames of a fireplace big enough for me to walk into, I've been planning a wedding. A slightly satanic wedding, but a wedding nonetheless!

That's what I'm working on as I wait for Michael to get home from a long day of meetings and planning to get the world up and running again.

There's a very wealthy benefactor that bought himself and his wife, Gloria, a spot in the new world. And Gloria just happens to design wedding dresses. Today, she stopped by our floor to deliver sketches of my dress. Now she's waiting on my approval to start.

The dress is marvelous. All black, the sleeves fall below my shoulders, the bodice goes to the top of my hips, then flows into a ballgown kind of skirt. It's feminine and has flecks of silver that will glisten in the light.

I'm so intensely studying the sketches, I don't notice the sound of the front door unlatching. It's not until I hear the clicking of my fiancée's shoes that my brain registers, he's home, and I jump up from my chair, sitting on top of the sketch papers on the desk so that Michael cannot see them.

My face breaks into a smile when I see his eyes, sparkling with happiness as he strides towards me.

"Hello, darling." He says as he wraps his arms around me, enveloping me in his heat and his scent, which is something like trees and cinnamon. It always makes me feel warm and safe.

"I've missed you." I say, running my fingers through his short curls. I'm quite proud of the fact that I was able to convince the antichrist to cut his hair.

He hums in agreement.

"What made you decide the desk was a good place to sit?" he asks, pulling away enough to look me in the eyes. I smile, resisting the urge to shiver.

"It's a secret. You'll see it soon."

He groans, unsatisfied with my response. I feel his hands go down to my waist, about to pick me up so he can see what I'm talking about. I latch onto the edge of the desk, using all my strength to keep him from spoiling the surprise.

We both know he could easily pick me up, but he knows how much I want it to be special, and he gives in. Instead he leans in close to my ear, gently brushing his lips against me in a way that sends electricity down my spine.

"Can I at least have a hint?" he says softly.

I can't help but sigh in pleasure, and I nod.

"It has to do with our wedding." I whisper.

At the word 'wedding', Michael's face lights up like a child. This time he does pick me up, but he doesn't peak at the desktop, and instead he carries me over to the bed. He pins me down on the mattress, gently leaning down on my wrists so I can't move. His face hovers over mine, a sweet smile on his face as he speaks.

"What a blessing, you are, my love."

I blush instantly, turning my face away from his.

"Don't be silly, Michael. You could do a lot better than me."

I'd never said those words aloud, and they hurt him a lot more than myself. The look that crosses his face is one of anger, and a little sadness. All he does is look at me with his burning blue eyes. The look is intense, and I don't think I've ever gotten it from him.

The next words that he speaks come out slowly and deliberately.

"You know that isn't true."

I'm stunned silent. I've never seen him act this way towards me. Or anyone at all, really. This is different.

He senses that I'm uncomfortable, and his glare softens. He lets go of my wrists, and places one hand on the side of my face, tracing his thumb over my lips.

"You are a gift to me from my father. I know it. He put you in my life to make me stronger. To give me guidance. He knew the only weapon I had missing from my arsenal was you, and now that you're here, I have the power to do anything."

When Michael speaks, it's completely clear to me how he was able to make the new world a reality. He has a voice that can move mountains, split the earth, and convince a bunch of rich people to invest all of their money into the apocalypse.

A small tear slides quickly down the side of my face, and he kisses the wet trail soothingly, all the way down to my neck.

"I love you." I say, my voice barely above a whisper. It's hard to talk when my throat is so tight.

His eyes meet mine again, but now they're soft and loving, and he leans down to places a kiss on my lips.

"I love you more."

We decide the rest of the night should be spent by ourselves, which is not something we get to do often. Michael has the enormous responsibility of keeping everybody on earth in check, which keeps him very busy. But being the son of Satan has its benefits, and nobody likes to disagree with the antichrist.

We've both undressed and crawled into the plush covers of our bed. This is my favorite spot to be with him. It's so easy to pretend we're the only people existing, which considering most of the company we're destined to keep for years to come is just old rich men and their snobby families, is quite a relief.

I'm perched on top of Michael's body, and we're talking about what his meetings consisted of today. A lot of planning where to start above-ground reconstruction. Everybody seems to be in favor of the north, somewhere around New York. Now it's a matter of picking a location and securing it from possible threats.

"I like the cold. I think snow is beautiful. I haven't seen it since I was a little kid." I say to him, recalling memories of snow fights with friends whose names I couldn't remember.

A look of guilt flashes across his face, and I remember that because of the nuclear fallout, who knows if we'll ever see snow again.

"Hey, you know what living above ground means, right?" I say cheerfully, not wanting Michael to feel guilty.

He offers me a small smile, "What does it mean?"

I grin, lacing my fingers through his. "We get to build our very own house."

He smiles for real now, giving me a sly look.

"I know why that excites you, love."

I have a feeling I know what he's talking about, but I feign innocence.

"Hm, why is it?"

In a flash, Michael flips us over so he's on top, and he grinds his hips against mine. I can feel his arousal through his boxers, and heat courses through my body.

"You're looking forward to not having to be quiet while we make love." He says, leaning down to flick his tongue over my hard nipple. He catches it with his teeth, and it takes everything in me to not moan loudly. He's proved his point, but that's not enough for either of us.

"Don't tease me like that, baby." I say breathlessly.

I tilt my head down, eyes meeting with his just before his teeth sink into the soft flesh of my breast. I wince, but my eyes want to roll into the back of my head. He knows I love things like this. After his teeth have left purple marks, he covers them in soft, wet kisses that make all of the pain go away.

He slowly kisses his way farther down my body. His lips brush over my stomach, sending shivers everywhere. I feel his hand slide in between my thigh, pushing it up against my hip, and soon the other one follows. Everything is tingling as he holds my legs in place, and slowly lowers his mouth over my throbbing clit.

I inhale sharply, my hand shooting up to my mouth to block any noise that escapes my lips. Michael is watching me intently as his tongue draws circles on me that leave me shaking. A stream of curse words comes from my mouth as he thrusts two fingers inside me, and I can feel him moaning against me, making everything feel all the more amazing.

"Fuck…please, I want you inside of me." I beg, but he only shakes his head.

"Not until you come in my mouth, love."

I moan desperately, my hips trying to create more friction on Michael's tongue. My hands reach above my head, grasping the bed rails as I feel the wave of pleasure begin to wash over me. My fiancée's hands hold my hips in place, and his lips are sucking greedily at my core.

"That's it, darling." He says, sitting back on his knees, wiping the wetness from his mouth.

He brings his hand down to his growing cock, freeing it from his boxers. The sight of his dick always made me wet, and I was nowhere near satisfied yet. I watch hungrily as he strokes himself, looking down at my naked body, his eyes filled with lust.

"Such perfection." He mumbles, tracing his fingers down my torso.

I'm blushing again, and he sees it. He leans forward, holding himself up with one arm, while his other hand brushed against my face, and the tip of his erection teased my inner thigh. I can feel that it's already wet, and I know it must be killing him to not have buried himself inside me yet.

"You make everything make sense." He says seriously, leaning down to kiss my lips.

Before I can reply, he reaches down and lines his cock up with my entrance, thrusting his hips forward. A gasp escapes my throat, and he's kissing me again to keep my quiet. He quickly grabs both of my legs and throws them over his shoulders, sinking himself deeper into me. He tends to want this position when he's incredibly aroused, when he wants to be the deepest he can be inside of me. Pretty soon, my name is slipping past his lips, and he's having trouble keeping his eyes open. His thrusts have gotten harder and I can tell I'll have trouble walking tomorrow.

I know when Michael is on the edge of coming, and it worries me that he still hasn't pulled out. He never forgets. After another minute, anxiety overcomes me, and I can't keep quiet.

"Michael, baby. Pull out." I tell him, and he does so just in time, spilling himself all over my stomach.

His eyes are wide as he comes, but they flutter shut as he lowers himself down beside me, laying an arm over my chest. I can tell he's trying to catch his breath, but I can't help myself from speaking.

"That was a close one, y'know." I say, looking over at him.

His eyes look guilty, but there's something else there. Maybe regret? It takes him several moments to reply.

"I'm sorry about that. I…guess I just lost control…" he looks down, like he's considering something. "If I tell you something, will you promise you won't get mad?"

I'm a little shocked. I've never seen him so anxious about talking to me. Usually it was the other way around. "Of course." I say, softly stroking his face.

He takes a long breath.

"I think we need to reschedule the wedding."

My heart stops, and I feel like all of the air has left my lungs. I'm so scared of all the reasons why he'd want to postpone. Has he lost feelings? Or met somebody else?

He can see the hurt clouding my face, and quickly sits up, pulling me up with him.

"No, love. It's not like that. I think the wedding needs to be sooner. Like, next week."

Now confusion floods me. Why would it need to be sooner? He seems to sense the question before I can ask it.

"Father spoke to me today. About a lot of things, actually. But one of the things had to do with you, and us, and…he told me it's time for us." He said this as if I understood what he was hinting at.

"For us to get married?" I asked, glancing at the elegant ruby ring that adorned my left ring finger.

Michael nodded slowly, "Well yes. That, and having a son."

It takes me a minute to process. I'm not sure what to think, and sure as hell don't know what to say. He stares at me with concern in his eyes, reaching for my hand and placing both of his around it.

"It's sudden, I know. But in my experience, it's always been best to listen to father and do as he says." He pauses, thinking something over, then a tiny smile crosses his lips. "I don't think it'd be the worst thing, having our own little one to care for."

The image flashes in my mind. A giggling boy with a mop of curly blonde hair, being playfully chased by his father. And a few years later, playing catch in a grassy backyard. Blowing out the candles on his tenth birthday. Holding his baby sibling in his arms, trying to teach them to talk.

"Baby? Are you okay?" I come back down to earth to see Michael's face inches from mine. He looks on the verge of tears.

I slowly nod, and he relaxes just a bit.

"Have I scared you?" he asks softly, to which I shake my head.

"No, Michael. I just wasn't expecting that so soon." He waits for me to continue, so I do. "Let's do it."

* * *

Author's Note:

Thanks for being interested in my story! Just be warned that its pure fluff, its only purpose is to warm my cold, dead heart


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